


Advantage from Catastrophe

by Allison_Wonderland



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Flashfic Challenge, Witchcraft, harry potter world AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22404949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/pseuds/Allison_Wonderland
Summary: He always knew there was something different about her, he just never realized HOW different.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68
Collections: Miss Fisher's Flashfic Challenge Heat 2





	Advantage from Catastrophe

**Author's Note:**

> Years ago, I published a ficlet implying that Phryne was a witch _a la_ from the Harry Potter Universe. I’ve always intended to continue it but I never got there. Well, now there’s this flash fic challenge so, I guess I’m doing it. The first section of this is from that fic, _Spelling Freedom_ and in true Harry Potter Fandom fashion, cannon relating to just about everything is given a hand-wave and I’m making this up as I go.

He didn’t realize it until much later, going over the case in his head. Certainly parts were still fuzzy thanks to the angry blow to the head and subsequent handcuffing. Rather par for the course for him he was sad to admit. But he did remember the smell of perfume, of her crouching over him, hands gentle and voice worried. No keys, her lockpicks gone, angry voices getting closer. A murmured word and his hands were free and he passed out again to awake in a hospital bed. 

A murmured word. One that took him back to childhood and his grandmother, one of the many he had tucked away. One that explained so much.

A murmured word. _Alohomora._

~*~

By some miracle, Jack managed to escape the hospital the next evening. He was faintly concussed but that didn’t stop him from remembering what happened, or from believing it was true. And if it was true... He needed to talk to Phryne. Now.

The sun was just setting as he turned up to Wardlow. Mr. Butler ushered him inside and took his coat, fussing over him in what Jack thought was an unnecessary amount until he realized that he was still wearing the same suit as yesterday, dusty and with a trace of blood about the collar. Perhaps he should have gone home to change first. 

“Jack!”

Phryne’s arrival in the foyer dispelled any notion that this would be quick, she radiated concern over his injury and overall state. The nurses told him that she had tried to visit but the doctor had forbidden it. Jack was surprised she hadn’t appeared in his hospital room anyways, it would be well within her power, apparently. 

He didn’t possess the capacity to keep both of them at bay so within moments, he was upstairs in her guest bath, washed and dried off and tucked into his pajamas. He tried not to think about the fact that he now had pajamas at Wardlow, even if the blue satin was nicer than anything he had ever owned ever. 

Jack kept his thoughts to himself during supper, laid out for them in her private parlour upstairs. Once Mr. Butler had cleared the dishes away though, it was time. He needed to know. 

“Phryne,” his use of her first name got her attention immediately. “I need to talk to you. About what happened yesterday.”

“With the suspect?” She was evading. He could tell.

“No, after. When you managed to free us from an un-freeable situation.”

“You know me, Jack, I always have a trick or two up my sleeve.” 

“Is your trick ash or walnut? My grandmother’s was holly.”

Phryne’s face froze and she met his gaze full on.

“Redwood,” she whispered, in spite of herself. “Jack, how did you know?” 

“I wasn’t completely out after I got hit, I remember little snippets. I remember the handcuffs falling away, I remember you making them.” Phryne still sat there, staring at him warily so he pressed on. “My grandmother, my father’s mother, was from Scotland, she came to live with us when I was just a tyke; she was old as bedamned and I found her endlessly fascinating. She taught me all about her world until the day my father caught her and they had a terrible row. She packed in a huff and I never saw her again. And I was forbidden to mention anything I learned from her. I pretended to forget all about it but I’ve always wondered. 

Phryne was silent but her eyes had taken on a warm glow. His natural curiosity was begging for answers, how it all came to be and how she managed to keep it hidden for so long. But she still looked faintly shattered so instead, he reached across the table, taking her hand into his. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” he reassured her. 

They sat there, clasping hands, well into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Mr Ollivander on Redwood as a wand wood: 
> 
> _Wand-quality redwood is in short supply, yet constant demand, due to its reputation for bringing good fortune to its owner. As is usually the case with wandlore, the general populace have the truth back to front: redwood wands are not themselves lucky, but are strongly attracted to witches and wizards who already possess the admirable ability to fall on their feet, to make the right choice, to snatch advantage from catastrophe. The combination of such a witch or wizard with a redwood wand is always intriguing, and I generally expect to hear of exciting exploits when I send this special pairing out from my workshop._


End file.
